


Idiots

by Accident, detafo



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Getting Together, Jealous John Watson, Light Angst, M/M, RP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accident/pseuds/Accident, https://archiveofourown.org/users/detafo/pseuds/detafo
Summary: Sherlock and John start to work on a case but will Sherlock's devotion to the work drive John away?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 38
Collections: Detafo RP Collabs





	Idiots

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first RP I've done with Detafo! Enjoy!

Sherlock looked up from his phone with a glimmer of mischief in his eye. "John, we're needed on a case." He mused. "A slight deviation from the usual... the suspect will be looking for a couple... a rather adventurous fellow with ideas of couple killing, and making it look like a murder-suicide." He bit his lip. "We'll need to pretend to be a couple..."

John looks up from his medical journal. “A couple? You and I?” He blinks, confused. “So not only do you want us to fake a relationship but we’re also going to be bait for a murderer?” He rubs his thumb and pointer finger over his eyes. This wasn’t the weirdest thing Sherlock had ever asked of him but it was definitely one there.

"Is there something so strange about that? Most of the Met thinks we're together anyway." Sherlock flapped his hand dismissively. "You've been reading that same page for over half an hour. I can tell when you're bored... now go and take a quick shower, and put on your nicest going-out-on-a-date clothes... I recommend that burgundy jumper with those black jeans you hardly ever wear." He smirked.

John blinks at him, slack jawed. “I know what they think.” He grumbles but he’s already getting up dutifully. “And I don’t have date clothes. They’re just regular clothes that I happen to wear mostly on dates.” He nods and walks off to go shower.

Sherlock huffed. "Date clothes. You wear them mostly on dates." He rolled his eyes, before heading to his own room to dress for battle. He chose the purple shirt that he knew John couldn't resist looking at, and a pair of tight-fitting tailored black trousers. Running some mousse through his unruly curls, he tidied himself up, slipped his feet into his Italian leather shoes, and put on his jacket.

John showered with military efficiency and shaved. He looked at himself in the mirror and put his shoulders back, giving a nod. He goes up to his room to get dressed. If he chose Sherlock’s suggestion that was just a coincidence.

Sherlock sighed softly, waiting for John to come down stairs. It wouldn't take long to hail a cab, and probably even less time to get to the club that all the victims had frequented, if the traffic was mild, which for a weekday evening, it seemed to be. "Are you coming?" He called up the stairs.

“Hold on. I’m almost ready.” John fixes his hair quickly and comes down. “Now I’m ready.” He pulls on his coat.

Sherlock appraises the man and gives an affirmative nod. "Very good." He murmurs. "It's a warm night. Shall we leave our heavy coats behind?"

“Yeah alright.” John nods, leaving his heavy coat. “Where are we going anyway?”

"The club where all his victims frequented before their deaths." Sherlock murmured offhandedly. "Mort de l'âme"

“Jesus, I haven’t been to a club in ages.” John sighs as he follows Sherlock down. “What was that last bit?”

"Mort de l'âme." Sherlock murmured. "It means the Death of Soul. Fitting, since they don't play soul music there, I suppose." He smiled.

“I guess so.” John chuckles. “For a second I thought we were going to a gay club.”

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Would that bother you? If it *was* exclusively gay?" He eyed the shorter man apprehensively. "John?"

“No it wouldn’t. I’ve been to a gay club before.” John shrugs and opens the front door, walking out into the sidewalk. “I guess I just assumed it was.”

Sherlock nodded, seemingly deep in thought. He raised his arm and a taxi seemed to appear out of the darkness to idle at the curb in front of them. "Hmm..." He mused. "Mort de l'âme. Barrow Lane." He told the cabbie, before leaning back against the seat and staring pensively at John.

John relaxes back against his seat. “I can feel you staring.” He looks over at Sherlock. “What? Did I finally manage to surprise you?”

"Mmm..." Sherlock smiled, leaning toward the shorter man. "Perhaps." He drew in a breath, licking his lips at the scent of John's soap and aftershave. "What exactly bothers you about people assuming we're a couple, John?" He mused.

“That it’s none of their business. I hate how they gossip and the way they treat you is wholly unacceptable so I’d rather keep our business out of their mouths.” John shrugs. “Besides you don’t do that kind of thing so I don’t want them to upset you.”

"It doesn't bother *me*." He murmured. "But it bothers *you*. You know I have no time for idle gossip. If they want to think we're together... let them. But you," He cocked his head. "You're really bothered by it... is it because of our first conversation at Angelo's?"

“I don’t care what people say about me. I know who I am and no half wit’s moronic comments are going to change that.” John rolls his eyes. “It only bothers me because they’re usually irritating things about you and because it’s not your area. You said it yourself at Angelo’s.”

Sherlock suppressed a small smirk. Trust John to be thinking of "his" feelings all this time. "John... I... I only said those things because I didn't know you well enough. I've..." He sighed. "I've harboured feelings for you for quite some time.... I'm rubbish at showing it." He snuck a look at his flatmate.

John sighs. “Come on, Sherlock. That’s not funny. Stop taking the piss.”

"Since when do I ever 'take the piss' as you so crudely put it?" Sherlock paused. "No, forget I asked. But..." He turned to look at John squarely. "I'm not lying."

“But..” John frowns. “You said it wasn’t your area. You’ve never gone out with anyone the whole time I’ve known you. Well maybe Adler.” He can’t help himself from scowling a bit at her name. He was still so irrationally jealous of that woman.

Sherlock groaned softly. "I said those things because I didn't know what we were getting ourselves into." He murmured. "I thought you'd live with me for six months and leave, not wanting anything more to do with me." He gave a pained look. "I was... *protecting* myself, I suppose." At the mention of Irene, he huffed a gentle laugh. "Irene Adler... the only reason I 'went out' with her was because..." He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Was because she was giving me ideas of what to say to you." He muttered, looking at his shoes. "When I said it wasn't my area, I meant in the way of not knowing how to act... no one's been interested in me like *that* before." He bit his lip.

John just stares at Sherlock, his brain seemingly having stopped working. “Oh my god.” He groans and rubs his hands over his face. “You mean this whole time you’ve wanted me?”

Sherlock averted his eyes out the window. "Yes..." He whispered, embarrassed. He bit his lip. Luckily the cabbie, though aware of what was going on, remained silent.

“Oh god. Oh my god. I’m such an idiot.” John clenches his fists.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "No, you're not."

“After every we’ve been through.” John shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

"John?" Sherlock murmured. "What doesn't matter?" He bit his lip.

“The wasted time. It doesn’t matter because I’ve wanted you this whole one too.” John looks at him.

Sherlock bit his lip against an involuntary smile. "I've had an inkling." He murmured. "I suppose I was.... frightened... to initiate."

“I’ve tried not to be so obvious after that first night at Angelo’s.” John chuckles, not knowing his jealousy gave him away so obviously. “So do you want.. something?”

Sherlock turned to look at the man and brought his face closer to John's. "I want all you're willing to give me." He breathed, before kissing the man soundly, tongue licking into John's mouth possessively.

John groans and pulls Sherlock close, kissing him back deeply.

"Oi, gents! Wait til you're at the club!" The Cabbie rolled his eyes. "I don't need no cleanin' bill on my cab."  
Sherlock ignored the man, groaning into the kiss. "Joooohn..." He moaned.

“I know. I know, love.” John kisses along Sherlock’s jaw to his neck.

"Do...do we need this job?" Sherlock whispered. "Or... shall we just go back home?"

“Later. We’ll go back later to the club.” John mumbles against his neck.

"Back to where you picked us up." Sherlock said to the cabbie, who merely nodded and turned them around at the next possible juncture.

John keeps Sherlock close, lips kissing any available bit of skin he can reach.

"John..." Sherlock mumbles. lips ghosting over John's cheekbones. "Christ, John..." He pulled back and grins. "God, you're beautiful."

“If I’m beautiful then you’re fucking breathtaking.” John kisses Sherlock’s full lips.

"Back again!" The cabbie says shortly.  
Sherlock groaned softly and threw more than enough money at him to cover the fare and a generous tip, before spilling out of the cab, pulling John with him. "My room..." He rasps. "It's closer."

“God yes.” John grabs Sherlock and nearly drags him upstairs to the bedroom.

Sherlock follows willingly, groaning with need. "John..." He rasped. "Jooooohn...."

“I know, love. I know.” John slams Sherlock’s door closed and presses him back against it, crashing his mouth into Sherlock’s as he unbuttons his shirt.

Sherlock huffed as he was pressed against the door. His hands raced to help John out of his jumper and shirt underneath, wanting to be in contact with skin. "God, John..." He moaned. "I want you... so badly." He gripped at the other man's hop with one hand. "Let me?"

“Yes yes. Anything. I want you.” John nods.

Sherlock groaned, before sliding to his knees onto the floor, hands fighting with John's trousers, opening them, drawing him out of his boxer briefs, mouth watering at the sight of him. Taking the head of John's cock in his mouth, he hummed in satisfaction.

“Good boy.” John praise, his hand going to those lush curls. His cock is big and hard, throbbing with want and need. “You did this. You made me this hard.”

Sherlock groaned deeply, hollowing his cheeks and taking as much of John as he could swallow, breathing through his nose, constricting his throat when he could.

“Easy, baby. Take your time. You’ve got me.” John groans, his head falling back against the door with a thump.

Sherlock grunted in response, apparently wanting to swallow John completely through his groin. His fingers dug into John's hips, hard enough to leave bruises, as he mimicked movements that had John fucking his throat.

“Sherlock. Oh Christ, Sherlock.” John pants and moans. His hips twitch as he tries to keep him still. It takes all his will power not to hold Sherlock’s head and fuck his face.

Sherlock managed a chuckle and pulled off slowly. "Come in my mouth?" He whispered softly. "Or fuck me into the mattress?" His swollen lips peeled back in a filthy grin.

John groans and nearly tackles Sherlock to the floor as he kisses him. “Anything. Anything you want.”

Sherlock laughs breathily into the kiss. "I want you in me, John... please."

“Then you need to be wearing a lot less clothing.” John grins and kisses the tip of his nose before pulling back and helping him strip.

Sherlock strips easily, jacket and shirt crumpling to the floor without a thought. His long fingers fumbling with his flies, he bites his lower lip, pushing down his trousers and pants, opening a drawer to grab a half-full bottle of lube. "I... need to prepare." He huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“So you’ve done this before?” John licks his lips, stripping himself the rest of the way and sitting on Sherlock’s bed.

Sherlock bit his lip. "Yes?" He murmured. "But never with anyone who actually meant something to me, John..."

“Hey.” John says softly and caresses Sherlock’s cheek. “It’s okay. We both have a past, yeah? But we’re here now. Together. That’s what’s important.”

Sherlock looks up at him, eyes wide, dark with lust. "I've loved you.... for a long time, John Watson."

John pulls Sherlock to him and kisses him tenderly. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” He mumbles against his lips.

Sherlock wraps long arms around John's shoulders and kisses him deeply. "Show me, John Watson..."

John lays Sherlock back against the bed, pressing close. He slowly starts to kiss down the detective’s body. He starts with his neck, kissing and sucking gently. Leaving light little love bites in his wake.

Sherlock whimpers softly, watching John's blonde head move slowly down his body. "Oh, god..." He whispered, not daring to believe it was actually happening.

John slowly kisses to his chest. He presses soft kisses randomly before twirling his tongue around Sherlock’s nipple.

"Hng!" Sherlock presses himself back into the pillows, trying not to buck up under John's ministrations.

“Breathe, love. You’re alright.” John soothes, kissing Sherlock’s sternum.

He takes a long shuddering breath. "I've been dreaming of this for so long." He admits, biting his lower lip.

He smiles softly and kisses him gently. “Me too.” He nuzzles him. “We’ll take it slow.”

Sherlock sighs, looking up at John with lust-darkened eyes, before rolling them over so that John is beneath him. Grinning wickedly, he begins kissing down John's body.

“Oh god, I’m in trouble.” John groans.

Sherlock hums as he presses kisses to John's chest, navel, each of his hip bones.

John takes a deep shutter breath, eyes slipping closed. He could watch Sherlock anymore or else he’d come on the spot.

Sherlock bites his lip, wrapping a hand loosely around John's cock, his other hand, already coated with lube, breeching himself as he begins to prepare. Resting his forehead on John's thigh, he groans softly.

“Good boy.” John praises softly, petting Sherlock’s hair.

"John..." He whispers, adding a finger and groaning again. He strokes John gently, biting his lip, eyes squeezed closed.

“Easy. Take it slow. I’m right here.” John encourages softly, his cock hard and leaking in Sherlock’s hand.

A third finger. Sherlock stiffens for a moment before relaxing into the pressure. Opening his eyes, he looks up at John, face flushed. "God, you're beautiful..." He mumbles, tongue darting out to taste John's leaking cock.

“Christ.” John groans. “I want you. I want you so bad. For so long.” He looks down at him.

Carefully removing his fingers, Sherlock picks up the discarded bottle of lube and coats John's cock. Licking his lips, he crawls up John's body and positions himself above the doctor. Grinning slyly, his slowly, torturously, lowers himself onto John's throbbing cock, hissing at the delicious pressure stretching his hole.

“Slow slow.” John holds Sherlock’s hips, helping him to slowly lower. “I’ve got you. I’m here.” He says softly, kissing Sherlock’s neck.

Sherlock whines softly. "So big..." He huffs. All he wants is for John to bottom out, but *oh god*... he bites his lip and leans forward to capture John's lips in a heated kiss.

John kisses him back deeply, nibbling on Sherlock’s bottom lip. He tugs on his curls gently as he licks into his mouth. Arching his hips he slowly pushes up into Sherlock.

"Aaahhh!" Sherlock gasps, feeling John rasp against his prostate. His cock twitching, he writhes a little, until his buttocks are flush with John's thighs. Taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes to look at John. Arching forward, he begins to rock, slowly at first, whimpering at the delicious slide.

“I love you. I love you so much.” John holds Sherlock close. He rubs his hips and thighs.

"John..." Sherlock whimpers. "I love you..." He groaned.

John plants his feet on the bed and wraps his arms around Sherlock, kissing him as he holds him close. He rocks his hips up into Sherlock.

Sherlock kisses him back, licking into his mouth hungrily. His own cock leaking and swollen, he encircles it with one hand and tugs in tandem with John's thrusts.

John sets a deep steady pace, holding Sherlock tight to himself as he rocks in and out of him. He sucks on Sherlock’s tongue.

Sherlock groans into John's mouth, hand tightening around himself. Leaning back, he pants. "Fuck me..." He groans deeply, still pulling at himself.

John licks his lips and nods. He holds Sherlock’s hips, thrusting faster.

Sherlock lets his eyes fall closed and he mewls wantonly for John. He is so close...

“Come. Come for me, love. I want to watch you come.” John begs him, aiming his thrusts for Sherlock’s prostate.

Sherlock keens as the fire in his belly spills over. Clenching around John's cock, trying to pull it inside of himself, he comes hard, spattering John's belly and chest.

“Good boy. Perfect. You’re so perfect.” John groans as he watches Sherlock come. He holds him, thrusting harder and fast until he’s soon coming as well.

Sherlock groans one last time, before dropping forward to lick some of his own come off John's chest. Chest heaving, he snuggles into John's embrace.

John pants, holding Sherlock close. “God, Sherlock.” He groans.

Sherlock huffs a laugh. "I'm not on the same level as a religious deity, John..." He murmurs.

“You sure about that?” John chuckles. “Cause I’m not.”

Sherlock smirks. "I'm not a religious man. But if you want to believe that of me, I suppose I won't stop you."

“Mm good.” John chuckles and kisses Sherlock.

Sherlock laughed into the kiss. "You're a wonder, John Watson."

“As are you, my love.” John hums happily, completely enraptured by his lover.

He shivers at the term. "Mmm..."

“Like that?” He smiles softly.

He nods slightly, nuzzling into John's neck, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth and leaving red marks.

John chuckles softly and cuddles Sherlock close. “Be mine? Always?”

Sherlock looks up, eyes wide. "I already was, John." He murmured softly.

“Good.” John kisses him sweetly, this kiss feeling more like a sealing of vows than just a plain kiss.

Sherlock hums into the kiss before pulling away. "Should probably clean up." He whispers.

“Shower?” John kisses over Sherlock’s shard cheekbone.

Sherlock nods. "Shower..." He agrees.

“Up you get.” John kisses him once more and lets him go.

Sherlock smiles and slowly gets up, hissing as John's cock falls from his ass. "Join me?" He murmurs.

“Obviously.” John teases softly and follows Sherlock.

Sherlock smiles to himself. "Good..." He whispers, entering the bathroom and turning on the shower, allowing the water to heat up.

John stands behind Sherlock, rubbing his hips and kisses his back gently. “Okay?” He asks softly.

Sherlock smiles softly. "Of course..." He murmurs, placing a hand over John's. "Love you."

“Love you, too.” John smiles against Sherlock’s skin.

Sherlock climbs into the steaming spray and holds out his hand. "Shall I wash your back?" He asks, teasingly.

“Mm let me wash you first.” John chuckles and joins him in the shower.

"Eager, aren't you..." Sherlock breathes with a slow smile.

“For you? Always.” John smiles and takes the soap, making his hands sudsy.

Sherlock grins and tilts John's head up to capture his lips in a hungry kiss.

John smiles against his lips and kisses him back, running soapy hands over Sherlock’s body.

Sherlock hisses softly at the touch, his skin still over sensitive from their previous activities. Surprisingly, he feels arousal flicker in his abdomen, not enough to get his spent penis hard again, but still enough to twitch lightly. "I fear you've awakened a monster, John Watson..." He grinned.

John changes his touch to something lighter and more gently, being careful of Sherlock’s hypersensitive skin. “I’ll take full responsibility, Sherlock Holmes.” He smirks.

Sherlock huffs with laughter, drawing the man closer to kiss him again.

John stretches up, kissing Sherlock happily.

After a week of being held up in the flat John finally decided it’s time they got out. They needed groceries as well as to give their bodies a break. Plus there was that case they’d walked away from.

Sherlock looked up from where he was buried under the bedclothes. "Are you going to work today?" He asked with an arched brow. "I thought you didn't work Saturdays anymore."

“I don’t. We need groceries. We’ve been out of milk for three days.” John snorts as he gets dressed. “Not that you’ve noticed. You’ve been quite distracted, Mr. Holmes. Very unlike you.” He smirks.

As if realizing this fact, Sherlock's stomach grumbles softly. He chuckles. "Well, to distract me is quite the feat." He murmurs. "I suppose you'd like some help?" He rolls his eyes theatrically.

“I think it’ll be good for you to stretch those long legs of yours for an outing rather than over my shoulders.” John licks his lips, distracted for a minute thinking about it. He shakes his head to refocus. “Come if you want. I’ll get you a treat if you behave.”

Sherlock felt the tops of his ears redden, remembering the night before's escapades. "What kind of treat?" He mused. "I'm hardly going to be satisfied with a lollipop." He smirks.

“I’ll buy you a toy.” John smirks and walks out of the room to put his shoes on, letting Sherlock figure out what he means.

Sherlock stops dead as he's pulling on his trousers, brain going into overdrive. Licking his suddenly dry lips, he fumbles while tucking in his shirt and pulling on his suit jacket. "John..." He said tentatively.

“Yes, love?” John hums as he ties his shoes.

"When.... when you say *toy*..." His aquamarine eyes blink slowly, and he bites his lip.

“Anything you deem as a toy. New microscope slides, that honey sampler box with honeys from around the world, a prostate massager. Whatever you think.” John smirks up at him.

Sherlock can feel the tips of his ears heating up again. "Jesus..." He breathes. Microscope slides weren't toys... but if he could feast upon different honeys drizzled over John's cock... his breathing hitches.

“Are you coming?” John calls out, already halfway down the stairs while Sherlock is distracted.

"Almost." He mutters with a light laugh. "Christ, John..." And he follows him down stairs.

“Mm?” John smirks, deciding to walk to the store since it was nice out.

"You're a menace." He smirks, falling into step beside him. "Really, truly a menace."

“And yet here you are.” John grins happily.

"Well, I have been known to entertain self destructive behaviour. If that includes getting fucked into the mattress by you every night, then, yes. Here I am." Sherlock grinned.

“That’s probably your least self destructive behavior as of yet.” John laughs. “Have you decided on a toy?”

"Hmmm... while the idea of a prostate massager is a good one..." Sherlock grinned, leaning over to whisper in John's ear. "Licking flavoured honey off your cock and ass sounds like a fun time..."

“Perfect choice.” John grins, wrapping his arm around Sherlock’s waist as they walk.

Sherlock grins and presses his nose into John's hair, inhaling. "I don't know how you expect me to behave you you look as delectable as you do." He murmured.

“As long as Mycroft doesn’t have to get us an official pardon I think we’re fine.” John snorts.

"Ugh... don't bring my brother into conversation... it's such a mood killer." He grumbles. For good measure, he flips off a security camera as they pass by.

John throws his head back and laughs. “How long do you think till I’m kidnapped for a chat?

Sherlock smirked. "I'm actually surprised we've had this much time together." He muses, just as a black car pulls up to the kerb beside them. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear." Sherlock rolls his eyes.

“That’s what you get for flipping him off.” John chuckles, continuing to walk and ignoring the car

"Hmph." Sherlock turns to the car, makes an obscene gesture with both middle fingers and continues walking.  
There is a sound of the electric window buzzing down. "Doctor Watson." Mycroft's drawl floats from the back seat. "May I have a word?"  
"Piss off, Mycroft." Sherlock snaps. "Keep your obscenely large nose out of our business."

“I don’t think we really need to have a chat about how I’m shagging the brains out of your younger brother but thanks for offering.” John winks and keeps walking.

Mycroft inhales tightly. "*Now*, John. If you please."  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Better do as he says, John. He might try to have Lestrade arrest you, if the man isn't still shackled to your bed, brother-mine?" He grins wickedly.

“Greg? Really, Mycroft?” John smirks. “Yeah yeah, alright. I’ll meet you at the store.” He pulls Sherlock in for a deep long filthy kiss just to piss Mycroft off before he gets into the car.

Mycroft scowls at his younger brother as Sherlock grins into the kiss, before sauntering away into Tesco's. Buzzing the window back up, he sat looking at John for a long moment, hands resting on the handle of his umbrella. "While I'm happy to see you've both worked out your differences," He mused. "Need I remind you that if you hurt him, John, the consequences will be swift and unavoidable."

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m sure there would be a heavy dose of torture mixed in there as well either directed by you or I may garner enough of your disgust to earn torture at your hand.” John smirks. “I’m not gonna hurt him, Mycroft. You know better than anyone I’d be first in line to take a bullet for him.”

Mycroft's eyes narrow. "I know you've taken lives for him, but really John. It won't just be me you'd have to deal with. It would also be our mother. She is particularly fond of Sherlock, though one cannot understand *why*." He clears his throat. "Now. Go and do your shopping, before he does require an official pardon." He flicked his wrist dismissively.

“I’ll make sure he behaves.” John nods and gets out of the car. “Can’t say the same about myself. Good day, Mycroft.” He smirks and closes the car door, walking to find Sherlock.

Mycroft rolls his eyes, before indicating to his driver to take him home. Back to Gregory? Perhaps.  
Sherlock looks at the wall of breakfast cereals with slight disdain. "These all sound positively awful." He murmurs.

“Most of them are to keep people’s bowels moving.” John chuckles.

"Those ones I'm fine with... but what are these sugary things doing in a breakfast aisle? Why don't children just spoon white refined sugar into their mouths and be done with it?" Sherlock asks, feeling a bit green at the sight of so much sugar to be consumed at the beginning of the day.

“Alright. Keep it moving.” John hums, leading Sherlock away. “Your brother sends his overbearingness.”

Sherlock makes a face. "And he gave you the hurt-him-and-die speech, I'm sure." He muttered, allowing himself to be pulled away. "You'd think he would come up with something original, but then he's never really been one for imagination."

“I think it was still pretty frazzled with the kissing thing.” John chuckles.

Sherlock snorted. "Mmm... perhaps."

“Come on, let’s get a buggie.” John chuckles.

Sherlock nods slightly. "Do you need me to drive it?" He teases. "I am the better driver of the two of us."

“You? You drive like a street racer!” John laughs.

"Have I caused us to be in an accident yet?" He smirks.

“That wasn’t my fault! There was black ice!” John shakes his head. “You drive then, superior driver.” He chuckles.

"Mmm..." Sherlock raised an eyebrow in amusement, taking the handles. "What do we need, then?"

“Follow me and I’ll put things in there.” John smiles and starts to walk through the store, filling up the cart first with cans and dry goods.

Sherlock chuckles, walking along behind him. "We need bread." He mused.

“Do you want the sourdough you like?” John asks, as he heads to the bread aisle.

"Please." Sherlock murmurs. He rarely uses that word, but he's trying to be good. For John.

John smiles softly and gets the one Sherlock likes. “Do you want bagels? I can’t remember if you liked making things with them.”

Sherlock shakes his head. "Not today." He murmurs, eyes tracking over the different styles of bread. Licking his lips, he feels his skin prickle. "John, do you see the man behind me, the one who keeps looking at us?"

“Mm yeah. He’s been following us since I dropped the can of corn so I could get a better look at him.” John hums.

"Do you think he could be the suspect?" Sherlock murmurs, lips close to John's ear. "He does seem to be overly interested in us."

“He could also be a creep. Or a homophobe.” John kisses Sherlock’s neck sneakily.

Sherlock smirked. "Could be. But raging homophobes usually have a tendency to get into people's personal space and tell them exactly why they're going to hell. He hasn't... yet."

“And when Mycroft has us followed they’re usually better than this.” John hums. “So a creep or a killer?”

"Should I ask him if he wants to be a part of a threesome?" Sherlock smirks. "If he's just a creep, he might back off... but our killer might take the opportunity to try and get us in his game."

“Mm your brother did tell me to make sure you behaved so make sure the possible killer knows I’m the only one allowed to fuck you.” John chuckles and kisses his cheek.

Sherlock pretended to look affronted. "Same goes for you, John. The only cock you're riding is *mine*." He grins wickedly. Turning to the man, he raises a brow. "Is there something I can help you with, or would you rather come back to our place and discuss matters?" He asked, a cheeky lilt to his voice.

“We can be rather persuasive.” John smirks, looking the man over hungrily.

The man raises his eyebrows, apparently not used to being propositioned so boldly and so publicly. "Err..." He mutters.

“Or maybe you wanna tell us why you’ve been following us through half the store.” John hums.

"I...err... I wasn't." He mutters lamely. He turns away, ready to bolt, before Sherlock puts a hand on his arm.  
"Mort de l'âme..." He says. "We're going there tonight, if you wanna come along, gorgeous." He gave a sultry smirk. "Don't mind him... he gets a bit jealous... but I find that really hot, so.... yeah?"

“Sorry, working on the whole sharing thing.” John gives an apologetic smile.

"Ye...yeah, okay." The man nods. "What time?" He asks.  
"Eight..." Sherlock gives a toothy smile. "Mmm... can't wait." He gives a slight giggle that doesn't entirely suit him, and flounces back to John. "You don't mind if we play with him, right John?" He asks, pleading.

“Oh alright. You do deserve a treat and the shy ones are your type.” John chuckles, playing along.

Sherlock smiled. "Eight o'clock... Mort de l'âme... on Barrow Lane.... see you there, cutie."  
The other man walks away, as if in a daze. Sherlock's act drops as soon as he's gone. "Mmm... given the thickness of the wallet in his pocket, he probably carries a wad of condoms." He mused. "He shaves all of his body hair, probably to avoid leaving DNA at crime scenes... that hair was a wig, and a bad one... I could see the discomfort from wig rash from here."

“So is being shy his game or was he not expecting us to be so bold?” John hums.

"Of that, I'm uncertain." Sherlock muses. "Maybe it's a little bit of both..." He chuckles.

“Looks like we have a date then.” John chuckles.

Later that evening, Sherlock came out of his room, wearing a pair of sinfully tight leather pants and a snug fitting shirt. He grinned at John.

“Sure you're not actually trying to seduce a possible murderer?” John licks his lips as he looks Sherlock over.

"If I am, I have an overprotective boyfriend to shoot him if the need arises." Sherlock smirked.

“Oh yeah? Boyfriend, is it?” John grins, the first time Sherlock’s called him that.

Sherlock stopped. "You like that?" He asks, a purr in his voice.

“I really do.” John grins and pulls Sherlock in, kissing him.

Sherlock grins into the kiss. "You can show me how much you appreciate it after we've caught our killer..." He murmurs, reaching down and squeezing John through his trousers.

John groans and rocks against his hand. “Oh I’m sure you will.”

Sherlock chuckles low in his chest. "Come on, then... let's go catch the couple killer." He muses, before making a face. "Why do the tabloids come up with such horrendous nicknames?"

“Too much time on their hands.” John shrugs. “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before they’re on our heels so get ready for that.”

"Hmph. They can mind their own business. Who I choose to shag is my business." He grins. "Those jeans look absolutely sinful on you."

“Well you did pick them out. Actually you just tossed them at my head one day.” John chuckles. “You just like them because they highlight my cock.” He smirks.

"And your arse." Sherlock grins in agreement. "I may just have to undo them with my teeth later... show you just how dexterous my tongue can be." He winked, before sauntering down the stairs toward the front door. "Coming?"

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” John groans and follows Sherlock.

"I hope not. Lestrade would have me on charges of necrophilia otherwise." He shoots back with a filthy leer.

“Not if I give you my body in my will.” John smirks. “Wow maybe we are a little messed up.”

"Ohhh, more than a little." Sherlock raises his arm and a taxi seems to magically appear.  
"Am I actually taking you boys to the club tonight, or are we doing a round trip again?" It was the same cabbie. He shook his head.  
"Actually to the club this time." Sherlock smiled sweetly. "You got a more than generous tip, so I know you're not complaining."

“Definitely more than a little.” John chuckles and sits next to Sherlock, he can’t remember ever having the same cabbie twice but then again he never made conversation with them.

The ride to the club was quiet, but Sherlock kept one hand on John's thigh, squeezing gently every now and again. Paying the cabbie as he deposited them at the club, he added a tip. "Thanks." He murmured.

John followed Sherlock out of the cab. “So where should we meet our date?”

"I think the bar." Sherlock mused. "The lounges close by for intimate time could be a good scene." He smiled.

“Alright.” John nods and follows him. “Should i be jealous that our first date is with a possible murderer? Then again all the other ones have been as well. At least we’re consistent.”

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Really John, do you expect anything else of us?" He grinned and raised his hand in greeting to their 'date' who had followed them in.

“You’re right, as per usual.” John hums, smiling at their ‘date’.

"Uhh wow... You both look amazing..." The man murmured, licking his lips.  
"Thank you..." Sherlock smiled. "You look rather delicious yourself." He bit his lip provocatively.

“Easy, tiger. Don’t wanna scare the poor lamb off.” John chuckled.

The man fumbled for a moment. "How's about some drinks?" He asked, getting up, rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously. "Beers?"  
"Vodka lime and soda for me..." Sherlock smiled willingly.

“None for me thanks. Sober.” John nods.

The man nodded and went to order. Sherlock turned back to John. "He'll come back with a ginger ale for you... I think he'll have roofied the drinks to make us more pliable."

“You are a lot funnier when you’re drugged.” John snorts.

"Why John," Sherlock pretended to look affronted. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were after a submissive bottom." He grinned. "I can do that."

“Oh love, you might be able to bottom but that submissive bit is gonna need some work.” John smirks.

"Oh, so you do want me drugged..." Sherlock laughed, accepting the drink that was brought to him. "I haven't even asked your name... I'm so rude." He smiled, pretending to sip.  
"Ryan." The man smiled. "So... Uh... I've never actually done this before... But... Could we maybe..." He raised his eyebrows ingly.

“You’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that. We like details.” John chuckles.

"I think he wants to take us home..." Sherlock smacked his lips as though enjoying his drink, but in truth, the vodka was cheap and awful. "Can we, John?" He asked, apparently looking for permission. "Please?"

“Mm alright. Do you want to dance before we head out?” John chuckles.

Sherlock nodded. "You wanna dance, Ryan?" He asked.  
"Sure..." Ryan held out a hand. Sherlock took it and tugged him to the dance floor along with John.

John hums, pulling Sherlock close as they dance.

Sherlock smiled pulling Ryan up against his back, sandwiched between the two men. He could feel Ryan's cock against his ass. He grimaced softly, but ground into Ryan, pretending to come under the effect of whatever had been in the drink.

John pretends to stumble a bit, holding onto Ryan. “Sorry. Little dizzy.” He giggles.

Ryan smiles and puts his arms around the two men. "Let's get out of here..." He says, tugging them toward the door.

John holds onto Ryan, wobbly walking. He gives Sherlock a look like ‘this is too easy’.

Sherlock gave a funny little giggle and allowed himself to be tugged out the door and onto the street. "Our place or yours?" He slurred slightly.  
"I reckon yours is closer..." Ryan grinned.

“Cab cab cab.” John chants, swaying.

Sherlock giggled again and clumsily raised an arm. "Baker Street..." He slurred. "221..."  
Ryan smirked darkly. "Mm... Can't wait to get you two into bed..." He murmured.

“Yeah? Whatcha gonna do?” John slurred, licking his lips hungrily.

Ryan grinned. "Mmm... I really want to tie him up and watch you have your way with him..."  
"Ooh that's hot..." Sherlock moans.

“He loves being tied down. Such a loud squirming mess.” John nods excitedly.

Sherlock moaned. Actually, being tied down and letting John have him was definitely a thought. But right now they had a job to do...  
As the cab stopped in front of the flat, Sherlock pretended to stumble and giggled softly as he picked himself up and opened the door. "Shh.." he giggled, even though Mrs Hudson had gone to stay with her sister for the weekend.  
Ryan smirked again as he followed them upstairs.

“Told ya he likes it.” John giggles. He nearly trips up the stairs and stifles a laugh at Sherlock’s shhing.

Sherlock leaned against their front door and pulled Ryan in for a sloppy drunken kiss. "You like to watch?" He purred. "Fuck, that's hot..."  
"Mmm... Let's get to the bedroom..." Ryan panted.

John blinks, they hadn’t discussed actually kissing the possible murderer much less bringing him to their bedroom.

Sherlock glanced at John with a heavy lidded gaze. "Ooohhh I've made John jealous..." He moaned.  
Ryan suddenly seemed to snap out of whatever had made him waiver and he pulled a wicked curved blade out of his pocket. "I said *let's get to the bedroom*." He growled.

“Too bad you brought a knife to a gunfight.” John pulls out his hand gun. “Drop the knife or I’ll drop you. Your choice.” He points the gun at Ryan’s head.

Ryan swears. He snarls at John and slashes the knife at him. Sherlock aims a kick to his bollocks from behind. Ryan groaned heavily, dropping the knife as he fell. Sherlock rolls his eyes, pulling a pair of handcuffs from the bureau drawer and snapping them around Ryan's wrists.  
"We'll, that was simple." He mused. "Shall we call Lestrade?"

John nods stiffly, keeping his gun trained on Ryan.

Sherlock pulled out his mobile and rang through to Lestrade. "Lestrade, yes... We've caught the Couple Killer... If you could be so kind as to send around your least annoying officer to arrest him, I'd be eternally grateful."

“Christ, Sherlock.” Greg sighs. “I’m sending someone now. Where are you?”

"221b, of course. He tried his tricks on John and I." Sherlock sighed. "Be quick. He might find himself jumping out the living room window to get away from us."

“Or if he just stays there on the floor.” John grumbles, pissed.  
“Right right. Be there soon.” Greg hangs up, deciding to go over as well.

Sherlock smirked at John as he rang off. "They're on their way." He mused. "Shouldn't be too long before you can have me however you want me..."

“Not now, Sherlock.” John warns.

Sherlock huffs a laugh. "Oh, it really is too easy to get under your skin." He drags Ryan through to the living room and all but throws him on the couch.

“Really not the fucking time, Sherlock.” John growls, livid that Sherlock’s now poking fun at him.

Sherlock frowns. "John?" He asks. "Are... Are you all right?"

“Jesus, really?” John shakes his head.

"I don't understand..." Sherlock bites his lip. "We've caught the murderer, we're waiting for Lestrade...I..." His face fell. Had this entire week just been an elaborate facade?

“You can’t stick your tongue down someone else’s throat, you twat!” John frowns.

Oh... *Oh*... "John... It was all for show..." He murmurs dejectedly. "It was part of the act... I..."

“Well you could have fucking let me know before how far you were gonna go. Should I have stopped you before or after you fucked him?” John snaps.

"It was a case, John. You *know* how absorbed I get in The Work." He gritted out. "I'm sorry you don't seem to understand that, even after living with me for so long." He turned to Ryan, who seemed to be snickering.  
"Trouble in Paradise." He grinned.  
"Shut up or I'll use that knife on you." Sherlock growled. "Tell Lestrade his case is closed." And he stomped off toward his bedroom, slamming the door.

“All I’m asking for is some communication but fuck me I guess!” John shouts. “No it’s fine. Just leave me with a fucking murderer.” He grumbles. “If you don’t keep your fucking mouth shut I’ll turn you into a bleeding lump of Swiss cheese.” He growls at Ryan.

After Lestrade has picked up Ryan and taken him away, Sherlock flounces out of his bedroom, dressed in his old, worn pajama pants and t-shirt, robe fluttering in the breeze. Slamming around the kitchen, making himself tea.

“Why do you think you get to act pissy when you’re the one in the wrong?” John gets up from the couch and grabs his coat, before heading downstairs. He needed a walk. Or a drink. Probably both.

"Tell me when we were supposed to discuss anything when he was with us." Sherlock muttered. "I was going where the current took me." He gulped his tea too quickly and burnt his tongue.

“Great! Be sure to use that excuse if you ever wanna cheat on me! ‘I was going where the current took me’. Fuck off!” John slams the front door and stomps down the street.

Sherlock flounces around the flat for another hour, before going back to his room, exhausted and angry.

John stays out, going to a pub to nurse a pint. He was pissed and he didn’t want to be in the flat with someone who obviously didn’t care about him.

*Come Home. I'm sorry. -SH*

John looks at his phone and rolls his eyes. *Do you even know why you’re sorry?-JW*

*I've upset you over kissing Ryan. -SH  
I took liberties with our roleplay. -SH  
I apologise. -SH*

*You didn’t discuss it with me first. You just did it. Which yes, I’m pissed about. But then you said you were just going where the current took you! Does that mean you get a pass if that current took your straight onto his cock?-JW*

Sherlock stared dumbly at his phone.  
*I was trying to garner his favour, not cheat on you. -SH*  
He wrote, before deleting it and trying again.  
*I'm sorry. It's all I can offer. Good night, John. -SH*

John sighs and rubs his hand over his face. He pays for the beer he didn’t touch and goes home.

The bedroom door is shut when John gets home. Sherlock lays on his bed, back to the door.

John hangs up his coat and takes off his shoes before heading to Sherlock’s room.

Sherlock says nothing as John enters, in one of his sullen moods.

John lays down on the bed and pulls Sherlock into his arms.

Sherlock stiffens slightly. "Talking to me now, are you?" He murmurs.

“I was scared, alright?” John grumbles.

"Hmph." Sherlock breathes. "Scared of a charlatan with a knife, or scared I was going to replace you just like that?" He mused. "I've done some questionable things to apprehend suspects, John, but it's all in the name of the work." He turned his head to look at John. "It means nothing like you do to me."

“We didn’t talk about it. You didn’t say anything to me. It just.. It reminded me of how easily I could lose you if you ever changed your mind about me.” John frowns. “I don’t have a life without you, Sherlock. Not one that I’d do anyway.”

Sherlock turns over. "You're never going to lose me, John." He said, a slightly exhausted voice. "We've been skirting this issue for years, and now that we're together, you really think I'm going to give up that easily?"

“You could have anyone, Sherlock. Why me?” John frowns.

"Why not?" He smiled. "Who else would put up with my eccentricities?"

“Well you’ve got me there.” He smiles softly.

"Look, John. I know I can be a handful. But if you're willing to put up with me..." He left the sentence hanging, one eyebrow quirked. "Kiss me?"

“Such arse.” John chuckles and kisses him.

"You love my arse." He murmurs, kissing back.

“Yeah yeah.” He chuckles.

Sherlock hummed. "Glad we've got that sorted." He murmured, resting his forehead on John's chest.

“Just no kissing anyone else without discussion first.” John rubs his back.

"Yes, sir." He mumbled into John's shirt.

“Good boy.” He praises.

Sherlock smiled softly. "Apparently I have a praise kink..." He murmured.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” John chuckles.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Shut up..." He murmured.

“It’s cute.” John pets Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock wrinkles his nose. "Cute. Sparkles and rainbows and fairies?" He all but purred as John pet his hair.

“Cute as in I have to have you immediately or I’ll combust.” John gently massaged his scalp.

"I'm all yours." Sherlock murmurs, leaning into the touch.

“How about just a cuddle tonight?” John hums softly.

Sherlock sighs softly. "Okay..." He cuddles close to John. "I love you."

“I love you too.” John holds him close.

He lets out a long, drawn out breath, closing his eyes.

He continues to massage Sherlock’s scalp.

Sherlock licks his lips, before pressing a kiss to John's collarbone through his shirt.

John smiles softly. “You’re such a softie.”

"I feel like I may resent that remark later." Sherlock mumbles. He feels his eyes droop.

“Mm, that's later you’s problem.” John yawns.

Sherlock huffed softly as he began to drift off in earnest. "Mmm... Later."

John hums, holding Sherlock close as he falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment and let us know what you think!


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